


Wisteria Blooms in Spring

by bookwyrmling



Series: The Floating World [1]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Edo Japan, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Kabuki, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Nothing explicit, Sex Work, This universe is going to be a mess of tags so I apologize ahead of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrmling/pseuds/bookwyrmling
Summary: At the recognized age of 24, Fuji is considered one of the most popular up and coming onnagata in Yoshiwara. But how did he get there?





	Wisteria Blooms in Spring

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had this world building itself in my head for quite awhile where all the TeniPuri characters are in Edo Era. The main group is part of the Seishun Kabuki Theatre (Seishunza). This is a backstory for Fuji.
> 
> Just to explain the tags: Fuji is sold to be a kagema (male prostitute) in Yoshiwara at the age of 15 of his own will. He lies about his age, so after that happens you will see his age as lower than he physically is. Fuji does not take his first customer until he is 15 again (aka 18), but I have marked it as a tag just in case. Also, as you can see from the rating this is NOT an explicit fic in the least.
> 
> I would like to thank the lovely solosorca for beta-reading this for me. She also recommended that I create a quick glossary for everyone. You can find that in the notes below. If there's anything about the fic you don't understand, feel free to ask and I'll add it to the glossary. Sadly, not all cultural terms are translatable.
> 
> Also, while I did do a fair amount of research, I do take liberties in writing this for the sake of the story.

“There’s nothing left to do about it, then, is there?”

Hidden out of sight, Syusuke listened to his parents talking in the living room, a troubled frown on his face that he already knew matched those of the adults within.

“I just don’t know how it could have happened,” his father bemoaned in disbelief of the evidence before him, “We can’t lose the shop.”

“Yumiko has been taken in by the shrine already,” his mother comforted, “Her gift will keep her well cared for.”

“And us?  And the boys?” he father sighed, “Even if I liquidate everything, there won’t be enough leftover to pay the employees.  The only option is to take Mizukiya’s offer, but even then-”

“We can return to my parents’ home.”

“I don’t know if I could handle that shame.  It might be better for you and the boys to return alone.”

Silence reigned supreme—heavy and all-encompassing—and Syusuke, hiding in the shadows outside, held his breath and squeezed his hands over his chest lest his breathing and pounding heart be heard.

“There’s nothing else to be done…” his mother said once more.

“How did it even come to this?” his father agreed.

Unable to listen to any more, Fuji slipped from the shadows and down the hall.  Before he could make it back to his room, however, there was yet another person he stumbled across.

“Yuuta,” Syusuke greeted, a smile instantly sliding into place for his younger sibling, but unlike earlier years, or even a few months ago, none was issued in reply from the other boy.  Instead, Yuuta fisted his hands and glared at the ground.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” he asked, squeezing his eyes shut and tensing his shoulders, “I didn’t mean to.  I thought Mizuki was my friend.  I didn’t know answering those questions would-”

“It’s alright, Yuuta,” Syusuke instantly reached out to grab hold of his brother’s shoulders, to calm him and comfort him as he always had, “It’s not your fault.  The economy’s been changing, that’s all.  We should have been able to see it coming.”

But Yuuta pulled away from the touch and the glare shifted to his brother, “Platitudes are not what I’m looking for, big brother!”

Yuuta stomped back into their shared room before Syusuke could say another word and the sliding of the shoji door spoke of how Syusuke’s entry would not be welcome.

That was fine, Syusuke told himself as he snuck past his parents into the store for paper, ink and ink stone.  He had places to be and, if he hurried, he could make it by daybreak—just around the time his absence would be noted and the letter he now wrote found.

* * *

“What brings Fujiya’s heir all the way to Senso-ji?"

Syusuke looked up from the fortune he had purchased and smiled.  “It is odd, indeed, to see you without your hair, Saeki-san.  The girls in Yoshiwara would cry,” he teased and the priest only chuckled in return.

“I guess it’s a good thing, then, that I have left all of that behind me,” Saeki replied with a grin, “but you have yet to answer my question.”  “Is your family well?” he asked in concern.

“Everyone is in good health,” Syusuke confirmed as he folded up the fortune slip and tucked it away.

“A good fortune, then?”

“Acceptable,” the boy confirmed then before letting out a sigh and letting his head drop a bit in shame.  “Saeki-san, you do not have to help, and I know you have cut yourself off from your old life, but even just a name—if not an introduction—would help.  I would not ask you to do anything more than that.”

“Syusuke-kun?”  The name was as much a question as it was a warning and Syusuke’s smile grew.  “We’ve lost the business.”  His admission sat heavy in the air and Saeki was stunned silent as Syusuke shook his head, “or as close to.  There’s no way to recover, as it stands, and even if everything is liquidated, we won’t be able to pay the employees.”

“What happened?” Saeki asked, still in shock at the news, “With the list of clients you had in Yoshiwara alone, shouldn’t business have been stable?”

“Sabotage from a rival dry goods store,” the young man responded bitterly, “I saw it coming yet could do nothing to stop it from happening.  I can at least do something to save it now, though.”

“You’re looking for a broker.”

Syusuke’s continued smile—one that did not reach his eyes—was answer enough that words would have been wasted if he had spoken them.

“Have you discussed this with your parents?”  Saeki pressed, already knowing the answer, but hoping to argue some sense into this child’s decision, “What you are suggesting is not an easy life for you.”

“I left a letter telling them all would be resolved within the week.  And, Saeki-san, thanks to my father’s business in the district, I know very well what kind of life I am looking at.  I know my worth well enough and if I play my cards right, it does not have to be a horrible fate.  Besides, if my doing this saves the business and my family, it is worthwhile,” Syusuke argued, “Yuuta can take over as heir in my stead.  He’s bright; he just hasn’t had the chance to show it.  I’m not asking you to do this yourself—I wouldn’t—I’m just hoping for a name.”

“Your father is going to kill me,” Saeki finally sighed and muttered, unable to argue against the young man’s pleas and stubbornness any longer, “Wait here.”

“At least you’ll be in Kannon-sama’s hands after,” Syusuke teased as the older man walked off.

* * *

“You’re surprisingly calm considering this may be the last time that you will walk through these gates.”

Syusuke smiled at the comment but refused to glance back as the gates shut behind him.  “I know I can rest well with my fate in your hands, Saeki-san,” he responded, “I never expected you to go this far.”

“In this case,” the priest said from beneath his straw hat to hide his shaved head and identity, “I trust myself the most to know you and your family are taken care of.”

“You are too kind,” Syusuke offered in gratitude for the family friend’s help, “I know my age makes me a bit less than desirable, but I should think my form makes up for it.”

They paused in the middle of the street and Saeki frowned as he studied Syusuke’s face.  “How old are you this year?”

“Fifteen as of two months ago,” the boy admitted with his bowed until Saeki reached out to raise it up once more.

“From now on, when they ask, say you are twelve.”

Syusuke’s eyes widened, but Saeki did not stop there, “When you think it to yourself, say you are twelve.  You are no longer fifteen, but twelve.  Your face is still soft enough for it and you have the height for it, too.”

“It’s allowed?”

“The owners won’t know the difference and won’t care,” Saeki shrugged before he began to lead Syusuke through Yoshiwara’s streets once more, “So long as they can tell the government that age in good conscience when it comes to scheduling your coming of age, they won’t care what age you really are.”

“Twelve is still on the older side,” Syusuke commented as they walked past a display room—empty due to the early hours—and he reached out to tap his fingers along the bars.

“But still in the norm and you have skills and brains to more than make up for it,” Saeki corrected with a raised eyebrow, “or are you going to doubt my knowledge.”

“Of course not.”

They did not stop along the main street where some of the overnight patrons left to start their days late and others lounged and flaunted the one day-one night regulation in place.  Two men strolled side by side and laughed in what was likely a leftover drunken stupor from the night before.  They appeared to be samurai by style of clothing, hair and attitude.  Saeki kept his hat low and turned down one of the side streets.  Syusuke eyed the two samurai until one turned hard eyes on him and Syusuke’s gaze returned to the ground as he followed closely after Saeki.

* * *

Yoshiwara was built on a grid with the largest establishments lining either of the perpendicular main roads cutting through the district’s very center.  Where Saeki led him now, the streets had narrowed, but also seemed to maintain a peace the main road had not, with none of last night’s leftover custom milling around or drunkenly settled against walls or posts.

The building they finally stopped in front of had a hollyhock on its lantern and Fuji chuckled for a small moment, wondering if the shogunate was aware of the flower’s use beyond its own crest.

“Good morning!” Saeki called out from the entrance and the patter of feet proceeded two children of indeterminate gender, but very clearly twins, opening the door for them.

“We are not yet open, sir monk,” one replied.

“Though we do have rooms available for rent for you and your companion,” the other added.

Fuji smiled as they eyed him while Saeki sighed and removed his hat. “I wouldn’t have thought I would be forgotten so easily here, Yohei, Kohei,” he said with a disappointed frown. The two twins looked at each other in confusion before sending wide eyes back up at the man.

“Saeki-dono!” they cried. “What have you done with your hair?”

Fuji chuckled and Saeki reached up and rubbed his bald head in chagrin. “I am a monk now, after all,” he reminded them but when they eyed Fuji he pressed on, “Is the mistress in?”

“Did I just hear correctly?” a woman’s voice called out from deeper within, “Yohei, Kohei, let our company in. It is rude to leave guests waiting in the entrance.”

“We apologize for the intrusion, Okaa-san,” Saeki said with a bow to a woman with a sensually proportioned body and keen eyes behind a pair of glasses. Fuji could tell she had once been a courtesan not too long ago and bowed behind Saeki.

“Really, you bring a travesty upon us,” the woman sighed, but she smiled and proved her displeasure in jest as she beckoned Saeki follow her. Fuji tagged along.

“I thought you had left us behind,” the woman continued once they had taken residence in a sitting room and had tea served by a very tall but quiet kid who seemed to answer to Reiji.

“It’s a one time only situation,” Saeki explained, “A job I could trust no one else with, Hanamura-san.”

“It’s Okaa-san now and has been for a long time,” Hanamura replied with pink cheeks before taking a sip of her tea. Her body shifted, all the same, into something slightly more casual and comfortable.

“You’ll always be the beautiful Hanamura to me,” Saeki argued and a pleased smile took over her face before her eyes shifted to Syusuke and sharpened.

“So you bring me this boy?” she asked, smile falling flat as she studied his face. Syusuke lowered his eyes demurely as she continued, “A bit old, isn’t he?”

“Certainly not,” Saeki waved off, sipping from his own tea, “You may ask him yourself.”

The heavy, studying look returned as Hanamura looked his way once more. “Child, what is your name?” she asked with a pinched mouth, “Your age? Be honest with me.”

No one was honest here, no matter how they claimed it. Yoshiwara was not a place that sold truth but beautiful fiction. “My name, Okaa-san, is Syusuke,” he replied with a bowed head, “and I have lost all others. I have twelve years to it.”

He did not look to Saeki for confirmation or help. Saeki had given his advice already and Syusuke would hold onto that kindness.

Hanamura set her tea bowl down, silent on the tatami though with measured care belying the force the tatami mats hid. “Did I just not say you were not to lie to me?”

“I can see a keen woman like you would see through any attempt at lies. I would not risk your ire,” Syusuke said again, bowing before her this time, “My name is Syusuke and I am twelve years old.”

Syusuke remained bowed over, the weight of Hanamura’s eyes pressing down on his back and shoulders, but he would fall no lower underneath them. She eventually sighed and the pressure fell away. “Well then, Syusuke-kun, since Reiji has left, you will pour the tea,” she said in a flippant command before turning back to Saeki. “What trouble are you bringing my way, Saeki-dono?”

Syusuke bowed a bit lower in understanding of the opportunity to sell himself more to her before sitting up and shifting himself to sit between the two adults rather than slightly behind Saeki.

Saeki held his cup out and Syusuke lifted the teapot, one hand delicately holding the lid in place while the other maintained a steady pour, wrists and hands on display as he had seen many a courtesan do when his father would bring him along on business meetings and deliveries.

“No trouble for you, Okaa-san,” Saeki said as he raised his fresh tea to obscure his smile without hiding it. Syusuke watched carefully, taking in the business side of his father’s close friend that he had never seen. He’d seen Saeki try to haggle for lower prices from vendors, but he’d never seen the man try to sell. Saeki took a drink of his tea then set the bowl down. “He is the child of a friend whose business has fallen on tough times and I wanted to make sure they were not abused,” he admitted, “Syusuke is a smart child and I believe you will find him a worthy purchase.”

Hanamura hummed, her eyes slipping over to Syusuke in disapproval. “Twelve is still old, if he certainly is that. Our business has always been fair.”

Syusuke bit at the inside of his cheek at the suggestion he would not fetch much. Saeki knew how much to sell him for at minimum. He could trust Saeki with his family.

“And this time is no different,” Saeki confirmed he would not be asking for any extra favor, “Syusuke may be old to start training, but I believe you will find him a quick study in that which he is not already versed in.”

Hanamura practically glowered at Syusuke then. “Bad habits can take longer to destroy than starting with fresh materials would take to build up,” she scolded.

“But when the raw material is truly a high enough quality,” Syusuke asked, soft and serene, even and with a touch of entertainment, “is it not worth smoothing out a few rough edges?” He peeked out the side of his vision to watch Hanamura’s eyes widen at his words.

A smirk tilted her mouth. “You are a precocious child,” she scolded but Syusuke could only hear surprise without any underlying distaste.

“My apologies,” Syusuke replied blithely, owning his unapologeticness, before holding up the teapot, “May I refill your tea?”

Hanamura held out her bowl and studied Syusuke in silence as he poured. “Someone has taught you,” she decided as he pulled away and set the pot back on its stand.

“I have taught myself,” Syusuke replied, thinking back to how he always saw the courtesans and geisha serve and sit and banter.

“Explains why it’s so shoddy,” Hanamura replied after sipping at her tea. But she was speaking with Syusuke, so that had to mean he stood a chance.  Hanamura put her tea down and turned to him fully. “Show me your face.”

Syusuke finally fully looked the woman in the face, his usual soft smile in place even as she reached out to grab onto his chin. She turned his face this way and that and only when she seemed ready to release her hold did he widen his eyes enough to show off the sharp color within. Her fingers clenched again, eyes widening in surprise before she dropped her hold completely and laughed.  “He’s not irreparable,” she told Saeki before looking to the shoji behind him. “Takahisa!” she called and the shoji slid open to reveal a youth slightly older than Syusuke.

He immediately bowed, managing to keep a graceful appearance even as his forehead touched the floor. “Yes, mother?” he asked once given permission to straighten. His voice was as calm and smooth as his unblemished face and deep brown eyes.

Hanamura smiled softly at him and threw a hand out to shoo Syusuke in his direction. “Show this one around and keep him occupied while Saeki-dono and I discuss business,” she said.

Takahisa bowed his understanding and Syusuke bowed his excuse before following him out of the room. The shoji slid shut behind him and Syusuke turned to face the opaque white paper screening him from the scene, but thin enough to hear through.

“You will not regret this,” Saeki said. Syusuke could hear the soft smile on his face.

Hanamura huffed a petulant sigh. “He cannot become one of my masterpieces,” she complained, “There is not enough raw material left. I do not start with children so old for a reason.”

“But you can see his potential,” Saeki pointed out. Syusuke stood with rapt attention, waiting for Hanamura’s response.

“I can see his intelligence,” she corrected, “He understands this is a business and that he is the product. He knows how to display it.”

Syusuke breathed in relief, letting out the air anxiety had trapped in his lungs.

“Why did you bring him to me?” Hanamura continued, “Other stores would be plenty happy to pay a lifetime’s ransom for him.”

“I trust you not to mistreat him,” Saeki replied, “And, as I’ve said, he is the child of a friend of mine.”

Takahisa placed his hand on Syusuke’s shoulder and Syusuke eyed him, not ready to leave when his and his family’s fate was being decided on this very moment.

“I hear Fujiya has fallen on hard times,” Hanamura stated sharply and Syusuke winced. Takahisa’s hand on his shoulder tightened, but more in comfort than any sort of judgment. “The owner has brought his heir with him into Yoshiwara before. Do you think me so unaware?”

All Syusuke could see was them being kicked out, returning to his family to tell them he failed. Having to leave for the country with his mother and brother, knowing his father would do what he could to pay their staff before likely ending his life to escape the pile of debt he had found himself in.

“Of course not,” Saeki agreed, but said no more. Had he only meant to see Syusuke fail before returning him to his family?

“Ah, but to take a younger child…with an eye for value and a mind for business,” Hanamura bemoaned after a moment and Syusuke’s shoulders dropped in relief. As a salesperson your job was to lead the client to the purchase, not force it on them. Syusuke had watched his father and his father’s employees do the same with kimono fabrics and accessories his whole life, but it took experiencing it personally to truly understand how close a line a sale walked between failure and success.

“He is only twelve,” Saeki pointed out.

“He is twelve,” Hanamura agreed. This time, when Takahisa pulled him away from the door, Syusuke followed.

* * *

Hanamura tugged at his kimono before turning him around and fussing at his obi.

“Hand it here, Reiji,” she commanded, hand out for the branch of wisteria blossoms that had been cut fresh earlier that afternoon from the hanging arches in their personal compound.

“Fresh flowers to celebrate new life,” she had decided when her eyes settled on Fuji after the request had first come from the Seishunza’s heads. Their son, Kuniharu, and his wife had born their first child in January. With the first few months under the belt and the girl growing healthy, they planned to finally celebrate the next generation with the theater, itself.

It was the perfect chance to bring attention to the small brothel and Fuji was the perfect age for a debut if still slightly inexperienced in some of his functions.

Syusuke’s name was Fuji now. When Hanamura had first told him, his eyes had widened in disbelief, but then she had written it out for him. The wisteria flower, long-lived and a symbol of good health and good fortune, not his family’s surname. “You came to us with the first blooms of the year,” she explained sharply, “and they now herald your debut.” It was a proper scolding and Syusuke had instantly schooled his facial features back into a calm smile.

Now it was his debut, an honor, Hanamura claimed for her audience, given in celebration to the Seishunza’s own newest addition to their family.

Fuji walked out in small, careful steps, the sleeves of his furisode falling to his knees, black lacquer hat pulled low to cover his eyes. The smell of the wisteria followed behind him, proceeded before him, permeated the entire room.

He held position until the music started and a murmur of appreciation rang through the crowd.

It was a small gathering, held in a local entertainment house, so the performances were set to match the occasion. They were small, meant to offer something to look at and converse about, rather than solely view, so Fuji danced only the first portion. When it came to the end, he held out the branch to the family head, Tezuka Kunikazu, in celebration of his granddaughter’s birth, only to have the man laugh and suggest the gift be given to his son. Fuji slipped back behind the screen to applause and laughter at Kuniharu’s brilliantly red face as he accepted the blooms.

Afterwards, he joined the room, sitting alongside Wakato, the small group’s most famous kagema who was breaking into a number of wagoto roles and building a name for himself, studying his careful movements and way with words. He assisted when it was necessary and before he was asked, but otherwise went with little attention except for to be teased for his inexperience. Fuji was still young, still learning. That was simply how it would be.

One of the young men, however, the one sitting next to Tezuka Kuniharu and whom was called younger brother by him despite the fact that they did not bear any familial resemblance, nodded his head and offered a near silent, “Congratulations,” when Fuji refilled his sake cup. Fuji lowered his eyes demurely and returned to his place sitting just behind Wakato. Only when everyone’s attention had once again turned to Wakato did Fuji allow himself the chance to smile and blush and eye him appreciatively.

Wakato danced with a fan, showing off his versatility by singing a Kyoto-style song shortly after. Fuji played the shamisen as a maiko and geisha from a geisha house danced and sang. Wakato and the geisha both gave a bawdy performance, which had the room in stitches by its end.

Through it all, Fuji kept his eyes on the young man next to Tezuka Kuniharu, wondering what his name might be.

* * *

The party ran late and staffing began to diminish. Fuji was excused to rest, though Wakato would remain for another few hours, which left him stuck for the time-being.

He slipped into the courtyard after changing out of the kimono he had borrowed and washed off his make-up. He was merely a servant now, in the Hanamura livery, ready to escort Wakato back home after the night was over. The chill of winter still returned at night so Fuji wrapped his haori tight around him as he stared up past the warm glow of Yoshiwara and Edo lights to the stars above. He breathed in, held it until the cool air matched the temperature of the rest of his body, and expelled it in a white puff.

The cherry trees were beginning to blossom. Yoshiwara had its fair share and once the trees came into full bloom in a few weeks there would be hosted flower-viewing parties all over. For now, though, the cherry tree in the courtyard remained mostly bare and mostly ignored.

“There is a saying,” a voice called out from behind him as Fuji reached out to brush his fingers against one of the delicate blooms. Fuji turned around to see one of the men from the Seishunza party standing on the engawa, smoking a kiseru, wisps of tobacco smoke twirling up into the bare branches. He smiled at Fuji behind his glasses and Fuji quirked an eyebrow at his suspicious-looking unshaven face.

“There is a saying that the most beautiful cherry trees hide corpses in their roots,” he continued and Fuji’s glance turned back to the tree in a thoughtful frown.

“Do you fear any secrets from this cherry tree, Yamato-san?” he asked, not turning back to the man.

He heard the clack of geta on wood and then the crunch of crisp grass before the warmth of another body came up behind him.

A large hand reached up to pluck the blossom Fuji had been reaching towards earlier. When Fuji turned to scold the man for having picked it, he placed it in Fuji’s hair.

“Secrets are required for beauty,” he finally replied, “They are never to be feared.”

“Yuudai, we’re leaving!”

“And that would be my signal to leave,” the suspicious man said with a gentle laugh, patting Fuji on the head of all places and wandering off while humming one of the songs Fuji had performed.

“Fuji, you are too young to be alone with patrons,” Wakato scolded from the engawa, the room’s shoji fully open to the outside to air out the smell of food and sake and sweat for the next day’s use. He beckoned with a singular hand and Fuji joined him only to have Wakato grab one of his ears hard and hissed, “Especially one I’ve been attending to.” Fuji scrunched his brow at the pain but refused to make a noise, simply nodding his understanding until Wakato released his hold.

“You’ve sent the kimono you borrowed back already?” he asked then, calm as if the last ten seconds had not happened. Fuji nodded his head in confirmation. “Good,” Wakato decided as he finished the last of the sake and handed the cup over to one of the servants cleaning the room, “Then let us go home.”

* * *

The next day, a letter arrived with a gift. Hanamura opened it in the genkan after sending the delivery boy off. She read it with a mischievous chuckle before handing the small box to Fuji.

“You did perfectly,” she said with a calculating smile before nearly skipping into her office.

Yohei and Kohei leaned in on either side of him as Fuji opened the box to find a hairstick with a fabric cherry blossom on it.

“But his name is Fuji, isn’t it, Yohei?” Kohei pointed out.

“And he danced Fuji Musume, didn’t he, Kohei?” Yohei added.

“So why not wisteria, indeed?” Wakato asked with a disapproving sneer.

Fuji barely heard them. Its presence could just be a coincidence, but the cherry blossom was too familiar a make to deny it was anything other than a Fujiya product. Fuji replaced the lid and clutched the box to his chest.

_ There was no reason to fear secrets. _

* * *

Hanamura’s reasons for Fuji’s debut and her smug pleasure at receiving a letter and Fuji having received a gift soon became apparent.

“He’s what?!” Wakato argued.

“Fuji will be studying as an onnagata with Seishunza starting today,” Hanamura replied calmly, “We will receive his earnings from any show he participates in for the duration of the contract. We’ve been in need of an in with a theater and Seishunza has been running perilously low in onnagata recently. It was the perfect opportunity.” She turned to Fuji and placed her hand on his shoulder and stared him in the eyes. “And, Syusuke?” she said, “Whatever you did to charm the Zamoto? Keep doing it.” She stood back up to full height and let her arm fall from his shoulder. “Yohei and Kohei will need somewhere to study soon,” she finalized, “and we have some amazing older actors who have simply lacked opportunity.”

Wakato snorted.

“You may be set, but Reiji is not. It can be hard to find openings for Aragoto positions,” Hanamura scolded, “And you do not bring in enough for the whole house yet, Hiroshi, so watch your attitude with me.”

* * *

Fuji played a minor role in his first kabuki a year later. His training was nowhere near enough for a proper performance, but a member of the chorus is not too difficult and Hanamura was correct in her assessment of the Seishunza needing onnagata.

It’s enough to draw attention and Hanamura laughed in delight at the gifts that began arriving along with letters of interest. “There’s a reason I normally prefer younger children because you’re definitely going to be a late start, but it really is time to begin bringing in money for the family,” she said with a sly grin.

Fuji took his first patron three months later, at the age of fifteen. It had been odd to think he had celebrated his fifteenth birthday with his family three years prior. It were as if he’d finally caught up. He heard enough about Fujiya to know the store had mostly recovered and Yuuta was proving himself a quick study on the business. Fuji pressed people to buy from there whenever he could. He made it clear to his first patron he would accept no goods purchased from Mizukiya.

At Seishunza’s next performance, he was chosen for one of the inter-act dances. The sad tale of Fuji Musume, performed in its entirety, was the talk of the theatre and Fuji became a recognized name.

His next role had him as one of the named female characters, acting alongside wagoto actor, adopted son of Tezuka Kuniharu, the previous family head who had passed earlier in the year, Tezuka Kunimitsu. Fuji’s breath caught in his throat at the familiar face now playing his lover for a night. He had seen him around often enough during his training and had watched him own the stage in performance after performance, but had not had the chance to say more than a greeting to him since the day they met.

“You’ve done well for yourself in these two short years,” Tezuka lauded.

“I would work twice as hard to play alongside you,” Fuji replied demurely, “Shall we see who captures the audience between us?”

“Give yourself at least another five years before considering that challenge,” Tezuka replied.

He was right. Fuji’s role was not meant to stand before Tezuka’s but even if it were, he would have been left in the dust.

“Next time, then,” Fuji challenged, his eyes measuring Tezuka’s shoulders as he walked away, waiting for the day Tezuka would not turn away from him.

Still, Fuji performed well enough to draw more attention to himself—not all of it from people he wanted.

* * *

“Imagine my surprise when I was enjoying a show during a business meeting only to recognize one of the actors onstage,” Mizuki Hajime said with a flourish, watching Fuji from the corner of his eye, a proud smirk on his face.

Fuji refilled his sake glass. “You must have strong vision to have seen me from your seats,” he replied genially.

Mizuki chuckled in the same way Fuji had always wanted to strangle him for and completely missed the jab at his distant seating as he replied, “Yes, well, good health has always ran in the family.”

“A far more important trait than integrity,” Fuji barely managed to reply without gritting his teeth as he leaned the sake container just out of sight to pour the contents onto a plant he would likely need to replace after tonight. It would be worth it, however, as he ordered another container. They were here on Mizuki’s tab, of course, the man attempting to woo his way into Fuji’s bed. Fuji would take a cut of all food and drink purchased as the requested attendant and Fuji would do his best to inflate that bill. He had done it the last two times Mizuki had asked for him, as well.

When fresh sake was brought in, Fuji returned to Mizuki’s side to refill his glass yet again, taking in the way he swayed while talking—always talking—about himself and his business and how he had managed to tear down the Fujiya for his family. “You’ve been trained well in service here,” he said as he placed a hand on Fuji’s thigh. “Perhaps I should ransom you,” he added as he leaned in, “Take care of you after being the reason you ended up here. You must be well-trained in other service, too.”

Fuji twisted out of Mizuki’s embrace, hiding his face so as not to show the murderous disgust he could not quite contain, before walking to the other side of the room and kneeling next to the koto he had requested be set up before his arrival. “Shall I sing for you, then?”

By the end of the song—the longest Fuji knew—Mizuki had passed out drunk on the tatami. Fuji left him there as he gathered his things and called for Kiriyama to accompany him on his return home.

“Shall I charge him the whole night’s rent again, then?” the mistress of the teahouse asked with a knowing smirk.

Fuji smiled softly in return. “I am certain he can afford it and would hate to see him left to sleep in the gutters,” he replied, “Please have the funds delivered after he pays tomorrow, as per the previous two times.”

“You are a feisty one,” she laughed but nodded, “Your mother must appreciate all you do for the family.”

“It is nought but my duty,” Fuji replied demurely before taking his leave.

* * *

It was always a risk that he’d come face to face with his family again, if not a given. His family had never left Edo and Yoshiwara was still a hefty portion of its custom.

A few people would glance Fuji’s way when the business was brought up, but he would only nod and mention how much he enjoyed their products. “Their promise to quality is in their name,” he said, “They’ll be second to none.”

“Is that your promise, too, Fuji?” one of the guests at a party one of his patrons had requested him to attend had asked.

“You’re welcome to see for yourself,” Fuji had replied, leaning over just enough to accidentally brush his thigh against the guest’s as he refilled his sake cup.

“I can confirm he is the best,” his patron, sitting on his other side, had said with a proud smile, “Would I have anything less.”

“I am still in the process of learning,” Fuji had returned with a shy laugh.

“Well, perfection is not an easy achievement.”

The group had laughed and Fuji had stumbled home drunk and on top of the Floating World.

“Big brother?”

Fuji wondered how far he would fall if the Floating World itself disappeared beneath his feet now.

“Yuuta…” Fuji started, but the betrayal and questions in his brother’s eyes silenced anything else he might have said.

“So imagine my surprise when I was at a kabuki performance and happened to see your brother up on the stage, Yuuta,” Mizuki said as he threw an arm around him, “I know you had been so concerned when he disappeared, so thought it would be within my duties as your friend to answer your questions. Now it did cost a fair amount as your brother is very popular here, but what are friends for?”

Fuji wondered how feasible it would be to get some fugu and secretly feed it, improperly prepared, to the entire Mizuki family.

“Is this where you disappeared to?” Yuuta asked, shrugging off Mizuki’s arm. “Why?”

There were a few ways Fuji could answer that question and he could see the pathways laid out before him.

The first option, truth, could not even be called an option. Not only would it be admitting in front of Mizuki how much damage the man’s family had done to Fujiya, but it would be confirming it in front of Yuuta. Despite the years that had passed, Fuji could still see the guilt-ridden look Yuuta had sent him the night he had run to Saeki for help. He would not let Yuuta feel that way ever again.

Fuji wasn’t afraid of secrets. He had long since learned their usefulness—even before his arrival in Yoshiwara, but the knowledge had been reinforced every day since. The best path, then. “I wanted it,” he answered with an easy smile.

Yuuta balked.

“I spend my days performing or resting and my nights in revelry,” he explained, “It’s much better than books and numbers.”

“You loved the store!” Yuuta argued.

“I was the oldest son,” Fuji replied, “It was my job to. But then you were old enough and I found an out, so I took it.”

“You just...took off?” Yuuta argued in disbelief, “With barely a goodbye? Because you wanted to drink your life away?”

Fuji shrugged. It felt horrible to be the person putting the pain on Yuuta’s face, but there was no better alternative for his and his family’s honors.

“Mizuki, you were wrong,” Yuuta finally said after staring at Fuji for a long while, “This can’t be my brother.”

Fuji and Mizuki both turned to Yuuta at that, but Yuuta only glared at Fuji.

“Because I don’t have a brother,” he explained before standing up and storming out of the room.

“Well, that went in a very interesting direction,” Mizuki said, his mouth twisting into something far too devious to be called a smile.

Fuji bit his words back and smiled before holding his sake up as a cue for Mizuki to drink. “I do believe you paid for the evening,” he said, “And we haven’t even ordered a meal.”

He would tear everything away from Mizuki, every last penny his family had, and leave them with no option but bankruptcy, if it was the very last thing he did.

He’d do it without Mizuki laying a single hand on him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to watch the dance mentioned in this story, please follow this link to an amazing performance by onnagata Tamasaburo Bando: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPgtX-ljHi4
> 
> Glossary:
> 
> Fujiya/Mizukiya - The -ya at the end of both denotes they are stores. In this case, both Fuji and MIzuki families own "dry goods" stores. They tended to sell kimono fabric (and later kimono) as well as some accessories.
> 
> Senso-ji - The -ji at the end denotes the location to be a temple. Senso-ji is a large temple located in Asakusa, Tokyo. It is still there and if you've seen pictures of Buddhist temples in Japan, you'd likely recognize Senso-ji. It is Tokyo's oldest temple and is devoted to Guanyin/Kannon/Kwannon, the goddess of mercy.
> 
> Yoshiwara - The Edo (Tokyo) red light district. It was fenced in and the prostitutes who lived and worked there were not allowed to leave.
> 
> Hollyhock - The hollyhock was the Tokugawa shogunate's crest. Aoi, Hanamura's last name, means hollyhock.
> 
> Okaa-san - Owners of Okiyas were called 'Mother'
> 
> Fuji - Depending on the kanji used, Fuji can have multiple meanings. Fuji Syusuke's surname means one without parallel, but it can also be written with the kanji to mean the wisteria flower.
> 
> Furisode - a type of kimono worn by young women (or kagema in this case) with long sleeves and bright colors. It is meant to draw attention and advertise that a woman was single.
> 
> Kagema - Young male prostitutes. Often passed off as apprentice kabuki actors. In Fuji's case, he does actually make the transition, but kabuki actors were oftentimes prostitutes, as well.
> 
> Teahouse - Teahouses were entertainment houses where clients could rent rooms for being entertained by geisha/kagema/etc.
> 
> Maiko - apprentice Geisha
> 
> Seishunza - Seishun Theatre/Group. Refers to the building and the players. Oftentimes groups developed their own specific and recognizable way of dancing kabuki and would pass it down within the family.
> 
> Onnagata/Wagoto/Aragoto - role types in kabuki. Onnagata played womens' roles and often dressed and took the roles of women outside of the stage. Wagoto - young men roles. Aragoto - 'Wild' roles. Generally what you think of when you picture kabuki with wild make up and stark poses.
> 
> Zamoto - Manager. Obtained performance rights from shogunate. In our case, Yamato also enjoys going around and finding new talent.
> 
> Mie - Poses made by Aragoto actors that characterize an individual.
> 
> Shamisen/Koto - traditional instruments entertainers would be expected to know how to play
> 
> Engawa - The part of traditional Japanese buildings that looks like a wrap-around porch. It's still considered to be inside the house and may play the role of porch/veranda and external hallway. It is meant to allow the building to remain open to fresh air no matter the weather without risk to the shoji.
> 
> Genkan - entryway where outdoor shoes would be kept. There is generally a step to separate this area from the rest of the interior of the house.
> 
> Fugu - a type of blowfish that, if not prepared in specific ways, is deadly to eat.


End file.
